That Ass
by St. Harridan
Summary: It's hard being the Sergeant-at-Arms of the SoA when one is getting down in the bathroom.


"Goddamn it." The pleased curse left him with an expulsion of hot breath heavily tainted with the scent of tobacco as Chibs shoved Tig back against the wall, Tig looking all the more thrilled to have the man between his legs. "Asshole, you ain't goin' gentle on me, eh?"

Chibs stifled a moan as Tig rubbed a knee against his groin. "Never crossed my mind." Probably because Tig didn't like it gentle.

With a grin, Tig took a fistful of Chibs' hair and pulled him forward, crushing his lips to Chibs'. His hands trailed down Chibs' torso, pushing the hems of the cut out of the way, ripping his thin scarf and throwing it to the floor, leaving it there like a rag doll. But before he could go any further, Chibs took his hands and bent down to kiss his fingers, slowly taking his time, until Tig could endure it no more and grasped his shirt, biting on his earlobe.

"Ye ain't takin' it easy on me, either." Chibs chuckled, a sound that inevitably sent a shiver up Tig's spine.

"Should I?" Tig stopped and pulled away, leaning back against the wall to regard Chibs with a suspicious gaze. He tried to control the laugh he had waiting at the base of his throat, but his amusement showed at the sides of his mouth as they quirked up. Chibs raised an eyebrow, challenging, only to have Tig break out into a grin. The sort of grin that showed he knew just what he wanted to do with Chibs.

"Asshole." Tig pushed Chibs back until he struck the opposite wall, the breath leaving him and falling unto Tig's face, a splash of tobacco. "I see you've been smokin' somethin' nasty."

"Just a cig, nothin' much." Chibs snaked a hand around Tig's waist, jerking him closer and smirking when he felt Tig's growing erection against the inside of his thigh. "Can't wait, eh?"

"Can _you_?" As unnecessary a question that was, Tig allowed it to hang in the air between them, the sneer he exhibited never leaving his expression as he trailed his gaze all the way down Chibs' frame and back up again, sealing the scrutiny with a rough kiss. His hands moved of their own accord, impatient and unrelenting, sliding up Chibs' thigh, dipping into his trousers while the other wrestled with the buttons of his shirt. "A little help here?" Tig growled into Chibs' mouth, receiving only an amused chuckle in return.

"Ye can manage. I've got my own work cut out for me." Chibs nudged Tig's cut away, just enough for him to brush the tips of his fingers to Tig's collarbone. Yet another shiver ran up Tig's spine. He swallowed a moan, glaring at Chibs with half the mind to throw him into the tub and climb on top of him. Suppressing a slight whine as Chibs ran his fingers up his throat, along his jaw, grinning teasingly, Tig pulled him closer and dropped down to his knees. Quickly, he unfastened Chibs' belt and unzipped his trousers, letting it fall to the floor to pool around Chibs' ankles as he stared with a poorly controlled smirk at the definite bulge straining against his boxers.

Chibs let slip a groan as Tig pulled his boxers off and grabbed his cock in one swift motion. With a growl, he grasped a fistful of Tig's curly hair while Tig gave the head of his member a teasing lick. "Too slow, bastard." Chibs thrust his hips forward, forcing Tig to take in more of him, but Tig pulled back with a hiss.

"I'm takin' my time, asshole. Don't want this to be over too quickly."

"I ain't the one who comes first all the time."

"Shut up." Tig grasped Chibs' hips and pinned him to the wall, biting the inside of his thigh. "Shut up and keep still, will you?" He slid his hands along Chibs' hips, waist, thighs, leaving fleeting kisses all over his navel. Chibs was being rather patient, Tig could see, only exerting the least bit of pressure on the back of his head, allowing Tig to take his time. A good thing, for Tig was in the mood for something slow, and he was never against savouring the taste of his lover.

"Tig?"

Chibs' fingers tightened, jerking Tig out of his wandering imagination. Both men froze as a knock followed that familiar voice, Tig's arms unconsciously wrapping themselves around Chibs' legs and bringing them close to his chest. They exchanged glances, wide blue eyes locking with dark, irritated ones, and then Chibs nodded towards the door. Tig swallowed and, still with the side of his face pressed rather possessively up against Chibs' abdomen, tried his best to remain calm in his reply.

"What?" he all but snapped, receiving a harsh tug on his hair from Chibs. "The hell d'you want, Juice?"

"Clay's goin' off on some business. Said he wants to meet with some firearm dealers."

Tig rolled his eyes. "Right, got it. I'll be out in a minute."

"The hell are you doin' in there anyway?"

Tig could feel the tremble deep inside Chibs as he tried hard to control his laughter, and grinned himself. "Wanna take a look at my shit?"

"Hell, no." And that was the last they heard of him as Juice scampered down the hallway, no doubt to inform Clay in regards to his comrade. Tig breathed a sigh, an annoyed one as he buried his face in Chibs' stomach, stealing a bite and sucking on the light bruise. It was times like these that he hated being the Sergeant-at-Arms of the club. Having to trail at his boss' heels and waiting on him like a dog, pulling out a gun whenever he needed it, wasn't actually all that bad, but when he had to go at a time like…_this_, it wasn't an understatement to say that Tig wanted to just set fire to Clay's motorcycle right then and there and lock himself up in the bathroom with Chibs all day long.

"Oi, ye plannin' on kneelin' there till Clay comes and kicks yer ass?" Chibs pushed Tig away with a foot, catching his forearm before he fell back to the floor. With a grunt, he pulled Tig up to his feet and bent down to pick up his discarded clothes. Tig, never one to lose an opportunity, reached out to pat Chibs' ass, but Chibs, as if reading his thoughts, shot out a hand and smacked his away. "Ye ain't touchin' me till ye come back from wherever Clay's goin'."

"_Chibs-_" But he was silenced by Chibs' lips. Instinctively, he slipped his arms around Chibs' neck, pulled him close. "It's your fault that I don't wanna go."

"Mine too if Clay comes knockin'." Chibs shoved him towards the door and slipped on his boxers, but Tig wasn't stupid – he could see the look of irritation, of slight hurt, that flashed in Chibs' eyes. And it wasn't just because of missing out on a good fuck.

"Hey." Tig cradled the back of Chibs' head in a hand and pulled him in so that Chibs' forehead was resting on his shoulder. "I'll make it up to you, man." He clasped a hand to Chibs' back, then trailed it down so that he was patting his backside. Chibs raised his head, quirking an eyebrow. Tig could only grin and pinch his flesh. "I ain't gonna miss that ass for the world."


End file.
